So how did I become two people at once?
I think I had better explain.
Transsexuals are weird.
Sorry. That’s actually a typo. What I meant to write was transsexuals are wired.
From birth.
During the biological spin-cycle of pregnancy, oestrogen – or testosterone – gets splashed where it shouldn’t. It’s like spilling red wine on a white dress. You never get it out. So you can end up with boys growing up physically as male, but with a partly feminised brain. And vice versa.
Here’s a real man’s analogy so any guys reading this don’t feel uncomfortable. Cough, splutter, spit.
Imagine a car with a Porsche engine and electrics. Put a Ford chassis on top. Is the car more a Ford or a Porsche?
What would be the easiest way to make the car match up? Change the chassis? Or strip out the engine, electrics and rubber hoses?
If you left the car as a mish-mash, it would probably break down. Just like a transsexual.
Now, it’s probably useful at this point to explain another popular misconception about trans people – a group not to be confused with a popular British all-female dance troupe from the 1970s.
We are not all the same. In the strange world of gender confusion, there is an unofficial Darwinian evolutionary scale, where trans folk sit at various points.
At the start of the spectrum we have Hairy Pantie Wearers. HPW’s tend to be masculine types who get a sexual thrill from women’s knickers. They make no real attempt to feminise themselves and do not want to become women.
It’s very rare to see a photograph of a HPW which actually shows his face. HPW’s are acutely shy creatures.
Transvestites usually dress as the opposite sex on a temporary basis. It may or may not be for sexual reasons. Their natural habitat has traditionally been a locked bedroom, or a trans-friendly pub or club.
Some people take a lot of time to figure out whether they are TV or TS – Transsexual. A word I loathe by the way. Trans-sexual has all sorts of porn connections. It’s loaded with the implication that someone is having the operation because they want to shag.
I’m using it here merely to distinguish between the many different shades of trans that exist.
If someone did go under the knife purely to have sex, they would not only be losing their nuts, they would actually be nuts.
Transgender people pop up (not literally of course) in supermarkets, the high street, or even bookmakers. Anywhere in fact.
Many trans women are never fully able to look like their core gender. Puberty and the aforementioned wonky wash-cycle mean there will always be a disparity between how they see themselves and how they appear to the world.
Others are more fortunate. Their height is within a normal female range, their facial features neat and proportionate.
They have the potential to be the stealth transsexuals. WMD's. Women of Many Disguises. Individuals who can switch gender with the minimum of fuss, blending in unnoticed.
There's also a less common group of stealth transsexuals who are tormented because they don’t know which world they belong in. This used to be my tribe. The zombies of the trans world.
Drifting back and forth, unsure whether to transition or not for a variety of perfectly valid reasons.
Despite this ebb and flow, there is one constant for all trans people. We are trans for life. From the cradle to the grave.
And we all deserve to be treated with the same respect as any other human being.
From my earliest memories I knew I wasn’t like the other kids around me, but to everyone I met, I was a normal lad. Someone who enjoyed running around outside, with lots of friends, playing cowboys and Indians.
I never wanted to be a squaw though. I was always Butch Cassidy.
I was also good at football, which meant an automatic stamp in my boy passport from family and friends.
So, on the surface, everything seemed just as it should be.
Only something deep inside was bubbling away.
From my earliest days I had been drawn to the feminine. A voice inside telling me there had been a mix-up when the DNA captains picked their teams.
My family steered me towards normal boy activities. On the few early occasions when I was caught playing with my mum's make-up or shoes, I was politely told that young lads didn't do those type of things.
I quickly learned what was and what wasn't acceptable. The rules of pink and blue.
But the female part of me never went away. In fact she grew. Secretly. Deep within.
Until one day when I was 14-years old and I ventured into the real world for the first time dressed as a girl. It was the most terrifying experience of my life.
I bought a girls sweatshirt, long skirt, coat, bag and shoes from a charity shop on the pretence I was going to a fancy dress party. I recall the elderly woman who served me giving a knowing smile and nod. Of course you are son.
Second-hand shops are a popular haunt for trans folk looking for cheap clothing.
I hopped on a train with my Oxfam carrier bag to Preston, Lancashire, and got changed en-route in the toilets, making use of the small collection of make-up I’d gathered magpie-fashion over a period of years from my mum and sister.
Applying mascara and eyeliner in the toilet cubicle of a rickety British train is a bit like an alcoholic with the DT’s trying to defuse a bomb.
I was not a bomb disposal expert. That mascara wand almost cost me an eye.
My heart was beating in time to the wheels on the points. Ba-dum, ba-dum. So fast I thought it was going to burst from my chest.
The brakes screeched my arrival as we slowed to a stop. I swear I heard the announcer say: “The tranny now arriving on platform 4…”
Stepping off I assumed I would be arrested immediately. Charged with falsely impersonating a teenage girl.
Yet nothing happened. The British Transport Police didn't swoop and throw a giant fishing net over me.
No-one batted an eye as I disembarked with a slight wobble in my tight skirt and heels.
I struggled to bat my eyes too.
The lashes clumped together by extremely sticky two-year-old mascara.
The blind tranny standing on platform four had indeed arrived.
My heart soared, and I smiled.
Despite my blurred vision and probable eye infection, I could see a whole new world before me.
